Sunday, March 9, 2008

Time Machine

Of all the things that I wished since I was a kid, apart from a bigger collection of GI-JOE, the topmost was a time machine. Other people wished Money, Fame, Power, Invincibility, Invisibility etc; all I wished was a time machine.

A simple time travel would give me a whole lot of satisfaction. And not withstanding that fact that a time machine would give a few of the above for example a single share of Wal-Mart would be worth millions today. Or maybe a large bet on India before the start of 20-20 world cup would have fetched me enough to buy an IPL team of myself, with probably Dhoni leading it. I might have been wealthier than Warren Buffet and certainly more famous than Nostradamus, with none of my predictions ever going wrong. I could have been the King maker in the world by knowing which winning horse to back up in the politics. I think I would have been content with that much Money, Fame and Power. And oh I almost forgot to add, a pass out from MIT and then Harvard too, because I would have known exactly which interview questions and what paper would be thrown at me in the near future.

Then I read the book ‘Science’ from Isaac Asimovin my 9th grade, it shattered quite a few of my private fantasies. While talking about Einstein’s famous ‘Twin paradox’ and time as the fourth dimension and the Universe splitting into millions of parallel universes at a time he practically made it clear that time travel is impossible, no matter how advanced how science gets. Basically even if u are actually travel through time or go at speeds comparable to speed of light the Universe will immediately split in two. So when you actually go forward or backward in time you will never be able to go back to ‘Your’ time again. Your Universe would have been split in two parallel universes with no way back to the other one, so whatever you do or disturb here will have no repercussions in ‘Your’ universe.

Pretty sad, isn’t it?

This question was again shoved in my face a few days back, in MICAT. Although not directly, but I was asked to invent a machine and was asked to describe the functions I would put in it. Though I never got around writing it but I did think along the lines of a Time Machine, to end all worlds’ miseries or at least mine. And yes I always wanted to put this function, that the time machine would always bring me back by 12 hours if it’s not reset in that time. This all to save me from getting killed or captured. And of course the TM would only work after hearing my heart beat, which is after recognizing the unique sound my heart valves make. After so many Hollywood movies I have realized that retina scans, leave alone the old school voice recognition, finger print and the Stone Age’s typing in a password never work.

Then I realized that time machines have been in existence since time immemorial. Though not in the heavy machinery, spiral spinning, working on nuclear power devices sense. But they do a pretty good job of transporting you through time, distances - both physical and emotional.

It’s a song!

Yes a song can take you to happy times in your past or can take put the taste back in your mouth of the most bitter heart ache you ever experienced. It can help you daydream about the good things that lie in your near future and can fill your heart and head with romance no matter how remote they seem in the future. No it would not make you insanely rich, that is if you are not some pop singer who focus on your legs/ass or your dyed and gelled hair in your videos more than the song. No it would get you the chicks if you are not a ‘Rock Star’. No it would not end world hunger or poverty maybe not even your own. It might help in world peace in the remotest way. It Might bring you some fame, which soon will soon fade away if your next song doesn’t make as much money.

But hey, it has helped me travel time and again. A song can put me back in my primary school rehearsing the lines of “On top of the world…” and trying to overcome stage fright. In the train I took with my friends in my 9th grade. Back in Tarun’s room where we sat for hours at end saying nothing but still enjoying each other’s company. Maybe back in my room when I dropped a year fantasizing about the exciting college life that lay ahead of me.

Sometimes a song takes me the first fresher party I had. I never had so much in an afternoon in my life. Sometimes to the time I got to know a certain someone in my life. Sometimes, my first date.

And then sometimes I am transported back to the hell hole of heartbreak that I spent months of my life clawing my way out, and then suddenly life doesn’t look so rosy, in fact its bleak and bitter. The constant struggle to get over, the constant question of why me, what went wrong, did I do the right thing. They all are shoved in my face again. The angst is so strong that I can almost smell it. The rotten feeling in my gut is rekindled. Once in a while I revisit the drunken nights that I spent trying to forgive and forget, while poor Harsh putting up with my idiocy and idiosyncrasies.

And then sometimes to Goa, floating in eternal ocean where I forgot all my worries, sorrows, anger and problems. Never mind only if for a few seconds. To Purple haze sometimes where I used to sing-along or head bang like crazy for nearly every song,especially after copious amounts of beer and tequila shots. Sometime to Spinn where I used to shout “This is my favorite song….” And where I used to dance the now legendary ‘Beer Dance’. Was that fun or was that fun? Sometimes to my old house, where we used to dance around the house after being drunk for no reason whatsoever.

Then sometimes I’m taken to the near future where there is no uncertainty, I know what’s happening to me and what will happen to me. With the cocoon of safety of college around me. To the time when I will dance senselessly again, and be content with my life. Sometimes to the time and place where I can hold my loved one in my arms, gaze in her eyes and say it all without speaking a word.

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About Me

Forget your personal tragedy. We are all bitched from the start and you especially have to be hurt like hell before you can write seriously. But when you get the damned hurt use it — don't cheat with it. -
Ernest Hemingway